


Drive

by elyndys



Category: Kanjani8 (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-30
Updated: 2012-07-30
Packaged: 2017-11-11 02:24:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/473429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elyndys/pseuds/elyndys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Formula 1 AU!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drive

It's a stupid hour when Subaru's phone rings. He answers anyway, out of habit - he often gets strange late-night calls and sometimes they can turn out to be fun.

"Hello?" he mutters groggily, voice rough with sleep.

"I came eighth!" the excited voice on the other end of the line exclaims, breathless and giddy. "Eighth!"

Subaru's brain takes a moment to find and open the correct file in his memory. Oh yeah, there must have been a race today. Somewhere many hours behind Japan. "Eighth?" he growls. "You woke me up at 4am to tell me you came eighth?!"

"But it's good!" Yasu protests. "I get points! My first points!" His voice is so full of pride that Subaru softens a little.

"Well done, yeah," he mumbles. "But seriously, next time just send a text."

"Next time I hope you'll be here to watch me," Yasu says. Subaru can hear his puppy dog expression over the phone.

Subaru makes a face that he's sure Yasu can hear too. "I don't care about your cars," he says wearily. "You want to get me interested in them, buy me one, that might work."

"I will one day," Yasu says defiantly. "When I win the world championship I'll get you anything you want! If you come and see me on the podium," he finishes earnestly.

Subaru sighs. He has absolutely no concept of how likely that is, and he doesn't care to enlighten himself. He'll wait and see. "Sure, whatever," he mumbles. Yasu's so young, he's sure it's all bravado anyway. Boys and their toys - expensive, noisy, flashy toys. Subaru can approve of expensive and noisy, but those big fancy machines are just too over the top for him. He'll stick with his guitars.

"I'm off to the party now, I'll see you on Tuesday!" Yasu says, but Subaru has already fallen asleep.

***

“Oh man,” says Koichi, almost as soon as they’ve sat down with their first drinks of the evening. “Did any of you guys see the race the other day?”

Of course, Subaru recalls that Koichi always was a big motorsport fan. He likes to talk about it, but Subaru usually tunes him out. Ohkura kind of enjoys it, and Hina is a big sports fan, so he leaves it to those two usually. But this is the first time he’s seen Koichi since he’d been together with Yasu. He isn’t sure whether this is knowledge he should impart so easily - after all, they don’t want the whole world knowing. But Koichi is someone he admires and looks up to, someone who’s been very good to him, helped him build his career. He’d probably be thrilled to know. And it couldn’t hurt for the future, giving him an in with a racing driver... Could come in useful if he needed any more favours.

“Of course you didn’t,” Koichi is continuing. “But a Japanese driver won! That’s a pretty big deal y’know! For the first time ever! A Japanese person won a Formula 1 grand prix!”

“I know,” says Subaru, before he can change his mind. And it’s pretty amusing to see Koichi’s look of surprise.

“You watched it?!” he exclaims.

Subaru feels almost bad for getting his hopes up. “No,” he says, “But I heard all about it. From my friend. Who’s a driver.” He can feel his cheeks colouring - he feels like he’s lying, even though he’s not. Except about the friend part, but he can work up to the whole truth about that.

“Whaaaaat?!” exclaims Koichi, his eyes like saucers. “Who do you know?! How?”

Subaru shifts self-consciously. “Yasuda Shota,” he confesses. “We met at a party...”

Koichi is looking at him with disbelief and envy. “You’re lying,” he says. “You couldn’t get that kind of luck! That’s so unfair!”

“Sorry!” Subaru replies. He’s having trouble keeping his face straight now, Koichi looks so utterly crestfallen. “I can invite him out with us sometime if you like?” he offers.

Koichi looks at him dubiously. “Are you crazy?” he asks. “He’s going to be a massive deal now he’s won a race! He’s the most successful formula 1 driver we’ve ever had! You can’t just bring him out to the places we go to!”

Subaru frowns, annoyed at Koichi casting aspersions on his choice of drinking spots. “Come on man, we know about avoiding the paps and all, it can’t be so different!”

Koichi shakes his head. “Do you even know how much he must earn?” he says in a low voice.

Subaru stares at him. Yasu hadn’t seemed like a particularly rich guy. He certainly didn’t dress like one. But he guesses he hadn’t thought about it - Yasu hadn’t played up his career, had modestly said he was a rookie, not very well known - but Subaru wouldn’t’ve known whether it was true or not.

He shifts uneasily, thinking about it for the first time. “I’m not interested in his money,” he says, in case Koichi might get the wrong idea.

Koichi rolls his eyes. “That’s not what I mean!” he says. “But they live in a different world, man!”

Subaru starts to laugh. “I’ve seen your house, you’re not exactly struggling for cash,” he says. Koichi obviously has some stars in his eyes about this whole car racing business. It’s just making Subaru feel a bit more cynical - toys for rich boys!

“I still can’t afford my Ferrari though,” Koichi sighs. “One day...”

Subaru snorts. “Whatever,” he says with a grin. “Just remember to invite me plus one to your next big industry party, yeah?”

To his surprise, Koichi nods earnestly. Later, though, it plays on Subaru’s mind a little - is Yasu really going to be so famous, so recognisable? Is it going to be a case of sneaking into restaurants through back doors, wearing disguises to avoid being Friday’d? It’s easy to act like just friends in public, in Japan, but is Yasu going to achieve the kind of international fame where people start asking awkward questions about his personal life?

If he’s so rich, though, maybe he can answer those questions with money, Subaru thinks sardonically. It’s the first time he’s been made to think about Yasu’s career in the real world. It is kind of exciting, imagining himself as half of a proper celeb couple. Even if no-one knows about it.

“I don’t want to be a hanger on,” he tells Yasu when they next speak. On the phone, of course, because Yasu is in Germany or Hungary or somewhere else Subaru is completely ignorant about.

Yasu laughs, but what he says surprises Subaru. “I was scared it was the other way round,” he tells Subaru. “I was worried you’d just think I was piggybacking off your rock ‘n’ roll lifestyle...”

Subaru snorts. “I wish. But you’re never here!” He hadn’t meant to say that, really - he doesn’t like how clingy it sounds, how demanding. But he met Yasu in December, and now it’s July. The last time they saw each other was April. He doesn’t usually think about it, but now he has, he feels a pang of missing Yasu that takes him by surprise.

“I’m sorry,” says Yasu, and he sounds serious. “But I can’t come back to Japan much when we’re racing in Europe every couple of weeks. But after this race it’s the summer break! I’ll see you really soon!” He sounds so earnest that Subaru can’t stop the smile that spreads over his face. He must be quiet for too long, though, because Yasu speaks again before him. “You... don’t think it’s going to be a problem, do you? You know... for us?”

Subaru hadn’t even thought about it. Sure, he’s never been in a relationship like this before - but he’s not someone who needs to be around his partner all the time. He likes his space, he has his own things to do. And besides... right now, he doesn’t feel like he’s interested in anyone but Yasu. That’s too soppy to say out loud, though, so instead he says, “It’s not for me... Is it for you?” That hadn’t even occurred to him - Yasu is always so keen and happy to speak to him on the phone, Subaru had just assumed Yasu felt the same.

“Not at all,” murmurs Yasu. “It just makes the time we spend together even more precious,” he adds sweetly, and Subaru feels like if he heard that line on TV, he’d gag, but from Yasu... it sounds just right.

“Just so long as you don’t think I’m sitting here pining for you,” Subaru says, though he’s smiling. “I’ve been working hard too!”

“In that case, it’s time you had a break too,” Yasu says, in the same sweet tone of voice. “I can’t wait to see you,” he finishes, his voice much quieter, more intimate.

“Well, let me know when you’re getting home,” Subaru says. He takes a breath. “Just so you know,” he goes on, because he feels it needs to be said. “I don’t mind waiting for you. Because you make it worth it when you’re here.” His cheeks are burning even as he says it, but he doesn’t want Yasu to think he doesn’t care about him, just because he doesn’t care about his job. It’s not because of the money or the fame, but if Yasu’s going to become a hot property, maybe Subaru’s going to need to work harder to hang onto him.

 

***

The first Subaru knows about it is when he hears a car horn beeping insistently outside his house at 2pm on a Thursday afternoon. He realises he can hear the steady thrum of an engine, and he can't help it, he's curious as to who's showing off some flashy wheels in his street this time. He's had some success himself now, he can afford to live in a nice house, with a decent car, and so can his neighbours - but what he sees when he looks out of the window is on a different scale completely.

Subaru likes cars as much as the normal man in the street - he likes to drive but he's not a geek about it, much to Yasu's unending disappointment. But even Subaru's eyes widen at the brand new shiny red Ferrari sitting at the bottom of his driveway. His first thought is that it’s Koichi, driving round all his friends’ houses to show off after finally attaining his dream car.

He hurriedly slips on his shoes and opens his front door, unable to take his eyes off the gleaming creature only a few metres away. It's a convertible, left-hand drive, and Yasu is sitting at the wheel with the top down, beaming up at him from behind some typically terrible sunglasses.

"Come on!" Yasu calls to him, waving at him to come down.

Subaru can't resist the lure of the shiny red car. He grabs his wallet and keys, and heads down to where Yasu is waiting. He can see people starting to look - they must've spotted Yasu, and while there's a few other celebrity-types who live in the area, they don't make themselves as obvious as this. He isn't sure whether to be embarrassed at the attention such show-offery is getting, or proud to be with a guy who's worthy of it.

He leans on the door of the car with a smirk. "Nice motor," he says casually. "Do you need me to pick you up when you take it back to the hire place?"

Yasu giggles. "No! It's mine! Get in," he says, reaching across to open the door. It's a stretch, but it amuses Subaru to watch him.

He slides into the car carefully. He's not sure how to behave in a Ferrari. He doesn't remember if he's ever even seen one before. "So," he asks, as Yasu glides off smoothly down the street. "How long have you had this?"

"It just arrived today!" Yasu says. The huge smile hasn't slipped from his face for a second. It makes Subaru smile too, but he tries not to make that too obvious. "Isn't it beautiful?"

"Yeah, it is," Subaru has to agree. "But this is a step up isn't it?" He feels very uneasy talking about cars with Yasu, not only because he wouldn't be able to hold his own and would end up feeling stupid, but also because he runs the risk of setting Yasu off on a big excited ramble that he won't understand much of.

Yasu gives him a funny look. "You are joking, right?"

Subaru looks at him blankly. This is exactly the sort of joke he would pull, if he knew what it was.

Yasu sighs. "You've forgotten, haven't you?"

Subaru wracks his brain. He remembers Yasu being very excited about something a while back, he remembers him swearing him to secrecy - which Subaru assured him wouldn't be a problem. "Well, at least I didn't tell anyone?" he says cautiously.

Yasu chuckles a little. "This doesn't jog your memory? Ferrari?" he says, briefly taking both hands off the wheel to gesture around the car, much to Subaru's horror.

"Don't wreck the thing!" he squeaks, thinking as much about the cost as his life flashing before his eyes. He feels nervous when Yasu drives him anywhere at the best of times - he doesn't know whether it's a cause or consequence of his profession, but Yasu takes on a very special kind of craziness when he gets behind the wheel.

Yasu just laughs. "Ferrari!" he says again. "I'm driving for them next year!" he says. "You know, most famous team in the world, massive prestige, every little boy's dream?"

"My dream when I was a little boy was to perform in Tokyo Dome," Subaru points out defensively. "But good! I guess that means a lot of nice perks then," he says, starting to grin. "Any chance of one of these for me too?"

Yasu laughs. "Well, we'll have to see how I do in my first year, won't I?" he teases. "But it does mean I get to go to Italy a lot..." he says, shooting Subaru a hopeful smile.

That doesn't sound as exciting to Subaru as a shiny car, but he guesses it could be OK.

 

***

When Subaru checks his phone after the soundcheck he has several missed calls. But he has no time to call people back now. He just has time to piss, chug some water and a beer, and do some final vocal warm-ups.

His phone rings again, 10 minutes before they're due onstage. It's Koichi, which is weird, because he’s only spoken to him once or twice since they met for drinks last year.

"Hello?" he answers, hoping he doesn't sound puzzled enough to be rude.

"Subaru," Koichi says, and his tone is urgent. "I think you should turn on the TV."

Subaru frowns in confusion. "What are you talking about? I'm just about to go onstage, man..."

"The race," Koichi presses on. "Isn't there a TV you can look at?"

"No, of course not," Subaru says, bewildered. "Look, what's this about?" His mind is beginning to come around to the logical conclusion, but he can't really believe it, it's so unlikely - right?

Koichi hesitates just a fraction, and when he speaks again his words are clear and slow. "There was an accident. Yasu went into the back of Schanda, flipped right over the top of him and skidded into the tyre wall."

Subaru, despite himself, feels the blood chill in his veins. "But... he's OK, right?" he asks, refusing to think negatively. "The sport's so safe now, he always tells me..." Yasu tells him a lot of stuff, but Subaru's now bitterly regretting that he didn't listen more.

"I'm sure he's fine," Koichi says quickly. "They got the medical teams to him quickly. And his car wasn't on fire or anything," he adds helpfully. "They haven't shown anything else yet. I'll call you when they do."

"Thanks," Subaru says distantly, even though he knows he'll be onstage. He can't just disappear now, when a few thousand people are gathered waiting for him to perform. Reluctantly he leaves his phone backstage, knowing if he felt it buzz during the show he wouldn't be able to resist the need to answer. It's just an hour, he thinks to himself. Everything will be fine in an hour. He'll have a message from Koichi telling him Yasu walked away, they interviewed him on the TV and he was fine... Subaru racks his brains, wishing he could recall where the race even was. Yasu definitely told him, why does he not remember?!

"Oi, what's up?" hisses Ryo, nudging him to go up the steps to the stage and making him jump.

"Nothing," he says shortly. He needs to focus, he knows, but even as he straps on his guitar he can't wait for the show to end.

"What's wrong with you?" Ryo yells over the noise of their guitars, after Subaru forgets the lyrics of a third song.

"Nothing!" Subaru yells back. He can tell Ryo later, or not at all, when it turns out everything is fine and the story is relegated to a few centimetres in the middle of one of the sports papers. Yeah. He needs to get on with the job, instead of worrying over nothing!

By the time they get to the encore, Subaru's heart is hammering in his chest. He rushes off the stage to check his phone, but there's nothing. He feels sick. No reassurance, no quick follow up telling him everything was OK, and sorry for panicking him. If Koichi couldn't even tell him what was going on over the phone...

"Let's just do one song now guys, OK?" he says, mouth dry, looking nervously round at the others.

"What?!" says Ryo. "You've been acting weird all night, what the hell is up with you man? We can't just piss off home 'cos we don't feel like it," he says pointedly.

Subaru scowls. He knows he can't hide his feelings, he knows he's no good at faking it when he's not in the mood - but this time he has the most real and solid reason he's ever had. "I just... have something on my mind," he mutters. He doesn't want to tell them the truth. Doesn't want to hear what they'll have to say; he doesn't need their pity or their advice!

"We've all been there," steps in Maru, before Ryo can snap anything else. "But just try and put it out of your mind for another 15 minutes, OK?"

Brow still furrowed with unease, Subaru nods slightly. He pushes them through three quick songs, no jamming or craziness like they sometimes come up with - all he can think of is his phone, burning a hole in his jacket pocket. He daredn't think of anything else. Daredn't picture what might be going on in some hospital halfway round the world - Yasu, scared and alone and hurting. He shakes his head and squeezes his eyes shut, taking it out on his guitar, and when he sings the line it doesn't come out as 'You're scared and you're weaker than anyone', it's 'You're scared but you're stronger than anyone', and he hopes the audience can feel everything he's putting into it. He can't hide his desperation any more than he could hide his distraction.

He runs from the stage and leaves through the stage door before the audience even have a chance to get round there, jumping into the first taxi he sees.

He stares at his phone, agonising over whether to call Koichi - no, he doesn't want to hear it over the phone from a friend. He won’t even check the news, he couldn’t bear that. He's going to go home, pack a bag, head to the airport...

He has his key in his hand about to open his front door when his phone rings in his hand. He scrambles to answer without even registering who's calling, fully expecting it to be Koichi.

"What's the news?" he blurts out, and his heart leaps in his chest at the voice he hears.

"Oh, you heard?" says Yasu. Subaru can still hear the shakiness in his voice, though he can tell Yasu’s trying to hide it.

He slumps against the door, his whole body slack with relief. "Yes, Koichi called me," he says, and his voice sounds raw. Well, he tells himself, he has just come offstage. "Are you... OK?" he asks, feeling stupid for several reasons.

"I'm fine," Yasu says, and Subaru can’t really tell if he is or not, but he's there, and he's talking, and he thought to call Subaru as soon as he could. "I just had a bit of a flip, that's all," he says, with a little soft chuckle. "But they got to me quickly, and got me to the hospital - I've just got a bit of concussion, that's all."

Subaru is glad Yasu keeps speaking, because he doesn't think any words could get past the lump in his own throat. "That's good," he whispers. "Where are you?" he asks, feeling even more stupid, and more than a little ashamed.

"Spain," Yasu murmurs. "It's lovely weather... Not even a wet track to blame it on. Stupid, right?"

Subaru shakes his head, the phone still clasped to his ear. "Yeah," he murmurs.

"How did your show go?" Yasu asks, and Subaru feels fresh guilt flow over him. "I didn't call till I thought it would be over. Didn't want to worry you..."

Subaru fights with his front door, struggling inside. It's getting hard for him to see. "It was fine," he whispers. "Well, probably not fine. But OK."

"Good," Yasu says. "They say they'll fly me back to Italy, all being well. Then Ferrari can keep an eye on me. Sorry for worrying you."

Subaru can’t speak, puts his hand over his mouth, and doesn't realise how long he's been quiet until Yasu speaks again.

"I'm glad you didn't see it, anyway. Must've been pretty crazy to see," Yasu says ruefully.

"No!" Subaru bursts out finally. "I wish I'd seen! I wish I'd known anything about it, wish I understood! Because not knowing was the worst," he says, his voice thick. "I wish I'd been there," he admits. "If I can, I’m going to start coming to races. Because if... anything happens again, I want to be there! And besides..." he takes a shaky breath. "I'd hate you to be there thinking I didn't even care about this thing you do, this thing you love so stupidly much you're willing to nearly die for it. OK?!"

Yasu is quiet for a moment, and Subaru can hear him sniffing. "OK," he agrees, his voice high and clearly full of tears. "I love you," he says, and Subaru nearly laughs, adrenalin and relief making him giddy.

"I love you too," he murmurs, and his chest feels warm inside despite everything. "Maybe I need to tell you more often, stop you pulling crazy shit like this."

Yasu giggles. "Can't hurt to try."

 

***

The next race is in Monaco. Subaru has no idea where that is, but Yoko tells him it's full of rich people and gambling. Koichi, ever eager to fill him in on the details of racing (for which Subaru is increasingly grateful), tells him it's where a lot of drivers live, for the weather, the training opportunities and of course the tax breaks.

"Maybe Yasu will want to move there some day," Koichi points out.

Subaru hadn't thought about that. Yasu already travels a hell of a lot, between the races and regular visits to Ferrari in Italy. Subaru isn't sure he likes the thought of Yasu sunning himself and attending rich people parties by himself. He should stay in Japan and come to Subaru's rock star parties instead. People there know who he is and get excited, it's good for Subaru's cred, he has to admit.

He'll call Yasu and mention it, he thinks.

He’d wanted to go, was all set to pack up and go and see Yasu race live for the first time - but the last time they’d spoken, Yasu had shaken his head and told him it was OK.

“You don’t have to come, I understand,” he’d said gently. “I don’t come to all your shows. And I know it’s a long way.”

Subaru felt uneasy. If he didn’t go, and something happened again...

Yasu had laughed softly. “Hey, I think I’ve used up all my bad luck for the season,” he said. “You don’t get big crashes like that very often. I’ll be fine!” He’d hesitated then. “The thing is as well, that there’s so much media and everything... and I don’t want to drag you into all that.”

“I’m pretty used to dealing with it,” Subaru had protested. “And out there, no-one will know who I am.” That was a bit of a sad thought, he realised - but at the same time, it could be nice to be anonymous, to just blend in and be normal... “You spent ages trying to get me to pay attention to your sport, now you don’t want me to come after all?”

“It’s not that!” Yasu had tried to explain. “But... I want to protect you from it all,” he’d said earnestly. “It’s crazy, all the photographers and people and all. And I don’t know... people would wonder who you were, and why you were there.”

Subaru could follow the thought through for himself - if he started turning up at races all over the place, coming to the track and leaving with Yasu, maybe it would seem obvious what they were to each other.

That would be a big step. Yasu’s told him of a few out sportsmen around the world, but the number is low. For a Japanese person to add to it seems... Subaru just can’t even conceive it. And to be in a relationship with a rock singer too? The absurdity makes Subaru wince bitterly. There’s sponsors and promoters to think about. It’s too soon. There’s still too much for them to prove.

So Subaru, despite everything, is at home in Japan on race day. He’s determined to at least watch the race though, for once in his life. He's seen bits of motor racing before, of course - that's how he knows it doesn't interest him. But he's never watched it since Yasu's been driving. It's a very different feeling. He's glad Yasu drives a red car, so he stands out - Subaru likes red. And he can't deny that his heart starts to race a little as Yasu goes wheel to wheel with another car at a tight hairpin, or when they zoom through the tunnel. Anything could happen!

Subaru finds himself drawn in, especially because Yasu seems to be involved in a lot of action. Maybe he feels like he needs to throw himself back into it at his first race back after his accident, but Subaru grits his teeth and tries to stay calm. He can't, though, not when Yasu fights hard and eventually finishes second after what the commentators call a "gutsy and determined drive". Subaru feels relieved, but also elated. Maybe there's something in this racing after all.

Yasu looks so happy on the podium, throwing good champagne about (Subaru knows how much he loves it) and playing about with his fellow drivers. It's like a whole other world to Subaru, and for the first time he feels like he's missing out. He feels stupid - of course, this is Yasu's whole life, and Subaru is just a little part, separate from all this. It's this that Yasu has dedicated his life to.

Subaru thinks that maybe he wants to be a part of it after all.

Afterwards he tries to call, but it takes him an age before he can get through.

"Well done," he says when he finally makes it. "Second's pretty good." He doesn't know what to say, he can hardly make an intelligent, technically-minded comment.

"Thank you for watching!" Yasu gushes. Subaru feels vaguely ashamed that such a little thing can mean such a lot. "What did you think?" He seems like he's fairly brimming over with happiness. Subaru guesses he would be, after a successful race like that. He feels another twinge of sadness that he's never experienced it there with him.

"I don't know, it's all just a bunch of funny-looking cars to me," he says truthfully. "But I'm glad you did well. Really glad. Now I'm sure you have to go celebrate..." he says, not wanting to cramp Yasu’s style or encroach on this part of

“Well, I guess...” Yasu says, at least trying to sound reluctant.

Subaru grins. “When you get back, you can spray me with some of that champagne. That looked like fun,” he says, lowering his voice to a silkier pitch.

“I can spray you with anything you like,” Yasu murmurs back. “And I’ll show you my big, shiny trophy.”

Subaru cackles. “I’ll polish it up good for you.”

Yasu giggles. “Now I really am going to go, or people are going to start asking me some very awkward questions.”

Subaru hopes that some day they’ll be able to give some awkward answers.

 

***

As the Japanese Grand Prix grows nearer, Yasu finds himself oddly more nervous than usual. There's some pressure to perform in front of his home crowd, of course, even if they are supportive - but the race isn't even first on Yasu's list of worries.

Yasu knows it hasn’t been practical for Subaru to come to races - they’re so far away, and he’s busy, and it could be awkward anyway, with all the photographers and all... When Yasu realised that, he thought better of his own selfish wishes, told Subaru he probably shouldn’t come anyway. He knows he tries to avoid the media in his own line of work, so he doesn’t want to give him extra hassle. But if there's one race he does want Subaru to come to, it’s this one - it’s in Japan so he’ll be in familiar surroundings, and he doesn't have to travel! The circuit isn't even very far from where Subaru lives. Yasu doesn't say it out loud, but he actually doesn't know what he'll do if Subaru doesn't come. He knows he's putting a lot of weight on it, but he feels like his heart won't take it if Subaru doesn't show up. He doesn't want to think about it, doesn't want to think about how he might feel if it doesn't happen - he knows he's made this into a test in his mind, and he knows that isn't right, but he can't help how he feels in his heart.

"Sure I’ll come,” agrees Subaru He sounds pretty eager, and Yasu is delighted he was telling the truth back after Spain when he sounded so committed to the idea of coming to a race sometime.

He gets Subaru a guest pass ready and everything, presents it to him delightedly - only for Subaru to say guiltily, "It turns out we have a show that night. I'll see if I can come along before..." he trails off. He looks so regretful about it, but Yasu’s heart still sinks like a stone.

Yasu tries to smile, but he can't deny this is stupidly important for reasons he can't quite fathom. It shouldn't matter - all the veteran drivers, the successful guys, Yasu's heroes - they all say that once you get in the car, nothing else should enter your mind. But Yasu can't separate the parts of himself up like that. He's an emotional person, he can't lock away feelings just because they aren't convenient. He's scared, not just because he doesn't want to be let down again, but in case it affects his performance.

He's seen it happen before, to other drivers. Problems with their girlfriends or parents or people around them, bringing them down. Making them get stupid. That thought stresses him out more, like it's not entirely under his own control. He’s having a great season, he’s challenging for the championship with only a few races to go - he can’t afford to throw it away now!

It’s his home race, so he has plenty to do before it. Press conferences, media exercises, sponsor events. Maybe he isn’t the same perky good sport he usually is, but if anyone is commenting on it, they don’t do so to his face. When he has a chance to look at the Friday newspaper, he sees a picture of himself, unsmiling, and it makes him feel very cold and alone. The caption speculates that he must be feeling the pressure ahead of his home crowd, with the championship so close right now. Good enough. Yasu’s sure it would be true, if not for the stupid issues occupying his mind instead.

He goes through Friday practice automatically, putting in some good laps, coming out in the top 3 in both sessions. On Saturday afternoon, it rains, and qualifying is delayed. Yasu sits gloomily in the garage, staring out at the streams forming in the pit lane.

His engineer nudges him eventually. “What’s up with you then?” he murmurs.

Yasu sighs. He supposes, out of everyone, Mark is the one who he’d have the hardest time keeping up appearances in front of. Mark is the person he’s closest to, out of everyone in the paddock; they’re good friends, go out together during their own time - but even Mark doesn’t know about Subaru.

“I don’t know if I can do it,” Yasu whispers. It’s true, even if it’s not the whole truth. “And if I can’t... what sort of driver am I?”

Mark puts his arm round him, clasps his shoulder firmly. “Listen,” he says, calm and sure. “There is no reason why you can’t go out there today and get on the podium. But there’s been plenty of times when you haven’t made it, and you’ve just gone on and got stronger. _That’s_ the sort of driver you are,” he says, with a confidence Yasu wishes he shared.

Yasu smiles at him anyway. “Thanks,” he says, and he is grateful to Mark for trying. He feels a little bit less alone.

He wanders out to the front of the garage - there are still a few people sitting in the grandstand wearing rain ponchos, and they stand up and wave when they see him. That, perhaps contrary to expectation, lifts his mood a little too, and he smiles warmly back at them and waves and blows a few kisses. He sees bored and soggy photographers leap into action at the sight of him, but he really doesn’t want to have to face them for too long, so he turns as politely as he can and heads back towards the back of the garage.

He’s about alongside the cockpit of his car when he stops in his tracks, eyes widening in shock as he sees Subaru at the back of the garage. He can’t believe it, thinks he must be mistaken, his eyes not adjusted to the different light of the garage after the glare of the white-grey sky outside. But Subaru sees him too, and heads straight towards him; he doesn’t quite smile, but he wraps his arms round Yasu in a hug that makes Yasu want to hold onto him and not let go.

He does though, of course, after an appropriately friendly length of time. He doesn’t know what to say first - he’s overjoyed, and it’s as hard to hide as his earlier moodiness.

“Thanks for coming,” he says eventually, thinking it the most neutral yet truthful representation of his feelings.

Subaru smiles, a little bashfully. “Well, I had nothing else on,” he says, deadpan.

The Japanese photographers have spotted Subaru, the visiting star, now, and are eagerly encroaching into the garage with their zoom lenses, and Yasu feels uncharacteristically irritated. He takes Subaru’s arm and guides him towards the back of the garage. “There’s nothing going on here for a while,” he says. “I think I can get out of here for a bit.”

When they get into the motorhome, in Yasu’s little private room, Yasu beams and hugs Subaru again, kissing him with the sheer joy of seeing him here.

“Thanks,” Yasu says again, unable to stop the emotion overflowing out of him. “It really means a lot to me that you came.”

Subaru smiles at him, a real, honest smile, and Yasu thinks that’s it, just knowing Subaru came, just to make him happy - his engine could fail on the first lap tomorrow and Yasu would barely care, he’d be ready for the next race, the next win, the next chance.

“So,” Subaru says, when Yasu has let him go. “Who’s that guy you were sitting with? You seem pretty friendly.”

Yasu has to laugh. “How long were you standing there, skulking around?!” he giggles. “He’s my race engineer, Mark. I’ve probably mentioned him before,” he says pointedly.

Subaru looks down. “I’ll try and start paying more attention,” he mutters.

It isn’t long before Mark himself comes to get Yasu. The rain has stopped, and they want to get qualifying underway soon. Subaru shakes his hand solemnly from behind dark glasses, tells Yasu casually that he’ll catch him later. It makes Yasu’s heart ache a little; keeping a secret like this doesn’t suit him, he hates it, but it’s a sacrifice he has to make. At least for now.

“Is that guy someone famous here?” Mark whispers to him on the way back to the garage, a little shame-faced.

Yasu chuckles. “Yeah, he’s in a rock band,” he murmurs. “He’s a good friend of mine.”

Mark looks at him, and nods, and smiles. He’s English, he doesn’t know anything about Japan apart from sushi and karaoke and what’s come up in conversation with Yasu, and that’s not much. He sees through European eyes.

Yasu hurries to put his helmet on, and gets in the car.

In the end, he doesn’t take pole position. He isn’t even on the front row; he qualifies in third, behind both Romero, his teammate, and Wakely, the current championship leader. But now, at least, it just feels like another race. He feels normal. He’s ready to fight.

On Sunday it rains again, but not enough to delay the race. Yasu is buzzing, more hyped than he thinks he’s ever been; he can’t sit still, wanders around the paddock under a massive red umbrella, chatting to the eager media and posing for photos with fans and guests. Now the fog has lifted from him, he’s enjoying the feeling of being the local boy, of carrying his home fans’ hopes with him. He’s confident - after all, it’s like Mark said, there’s no reason why he shouldn’t win here today. And that’s the best feeling he could hope for right now.

He’s halfway down the paddock when it happens again, just like yesterday - Yasu can’t believe his eyes, he thinks he’s mistaken, when, strolling down the paddock, comes Subaru, surrounded by his own crowd of media. Yasu stops in his tracks, but Subaru comes straight to him and, just like yesterday, hugs him, warm and tight and it takes Yasu’s breath away.

There are photographers everywhere, and for a few long moments Yasu forgets how to act like a normal person, forgets how to act in public, forgets everything except the feeling of Subaru’s arms round him, so much more welcome for being unexpected.

“What are you doing here?” he manages when they pull apart, trying not to sound too giddy. “I didn’t expect to see you again, I thought yesterday would be it!”

Subaru looks everywhere but Yasu’s face. “That show we’re doing tonight? Seems it’s here,” he mumbles.

Yasu blinks. He hadn’t even looked at what’s going on for the rest of the weekend, he’d been too preoccupied. He starts to laugh. “So I’ve been hounding you all this time, for no reason?!”

Subaru’s face slowly brightens, as if he’s been let off the hook. “Yeah,” he says, growing in confidence. “Yeah, that’s exactly it! See, you didn’t need to be such a pain!”

Yasu giggles and shoves him. “Lucky coincidence.”

It is pretty lucky, because, after a magnificent start and some fearless moves, by the end of the first lap he’s in the lead. The race is tricky in places, with several laps under the safety car and his teammate spinning off with a puncture that damages the floor of his car: “Dani’s out,” Mark tells him on the radio. “But you’re doing well, this is good driving. Keep pushing. Keep pushing!”

The team are relying on him to bring back good points now. He always wants to beat his teammate, but it’s no satisfaction for it to happen like this. He’ll accept it though - Dani is one of his closest rivals, and he has to capitalise on his absence. After the final pitstop, Yasu goes back out still in the lead, and it all goes to plan. He sails away from the rest of the field, no mistakes, sets two fastest laps, and as he passes the chequered flag the tears stream down his face.

“Well done Shota, well done!” says Mark in his ear, just as overcome with joy as Yasu himself. “You are the winner of the Japanese grand prix - and the new championship leader! Phenomenal drive!”

“Thank you so much, guys,” he says tearfully. “Thank you. Thank you!” He drives around to parc ferme, waving at the ecstatic crowd, but he can’t help but think of Subaru. He knows it shouldn’t matter as much as it did, but he’s so happy Subaru could be there to see him win this race that’s so important to him. He honestly feels like he found that extra _something_ that let him win, just because Subaru was there.

He stops the car in the first place slot and gets out, climbing on top of it to salute the fans still cheering him in the grandstand. But then he’s off, leaping into the overjoyed arms of his team. He desperately hopes Subaru is there, though he knows it’s a slim chance; why would Subaru hang around the garage with a bunch of people he doesn’t know? And besides, if he was there, he couldn’t exactly go unnoticed by the swarms of photographers crowded everywhere.

But then, right at the back of the red mass of Ferrari staff, he spots one figure, standing out in black and white. His heart, already hammering, leaps in his chest, and he bounds over the barrier, not even thinking about what the stewards might say about it later, and pushes through the press of people slapping him on the back and patting him on the head till he’s in front of Subaru. Yasu hasn’t even taken his helmet off, he can’t even wipe his eyes and he can’t hear a thing over the ringing in his ears, so he just pulls Subaru into a hug that he hopes doesn’t last too long. It just feels good to be close to him, to share this moment, the most important of his life.

Subaru says something but Yasu can’t make out a word. He shakes his head and makes his way back through, around and over his team. His chest feels like it might burst with happiness - it’s more perfect than he feels he could ever deserve. He finally takes his helmet off, and the next day his tear-streaked smiling face is on back and front pages across the country, and the world.

***

Subaru can’t deny, it was actually pretty thrilling to be at the race. Maybe it wouldn’t’ve been quite so exciting if Yasu hadn’t won, but he had, and the noise from the grandstands was something Subaru couldn’t quite believe. It really was like being in Tokyo Dome. He actually feels a little envious.

“It was crazy,” he says to Yasu later. “All those people screaming for you. Must’ve felt incredible.”

Yasu just smiles and ducks his head modestly, because that’s the sort of person he is.

“I’d love to have so many people screaming for the band like that some day,” Subaru muses.

“You will,” Yasu says, with such a calm certainty that Subaru immediately believes him, then a moment later wonders how. “If someone like me can achieve what I have, then you can too!”

Subaru smiles, and Yasu smiles back, but he doesn’t want to talk anymore, and Subaru doesn’t know if it’s the adrenalin or the adulation or what but Yasu’s never kissed him like this before.

Later, before they fall asleep, with Yasu curled up against his chest, Subaru kisses his forehead and murmurs, “You should win more races if it makes you behave like that.”

He feels Yasu smile against his skin. “It’s not just winning the race,” he says softly. “It’s you being here too.”

Subaru feels warmth bloom in his chest. He hugs Yasu tight. “I definitely want to come to more, in that case.”

And so, two weeks later, Subaru finds himself in Korea. It’s not an especially nice bit of the country, but that doesn’t matter when Yasu wins again, in emphatic fashion. Subaru gets to go to a stylish party - even he’s impressed by the opulence afforded by one of the most famous brands in the world - and when Yasu takes him back to the hotel the passion he shows him is like nothing else. Sportspeople, along with artistes, he thinks smugly, make the best lovers - they show the same passion and dedication they put into in their work in every aspect of life that they love.

With three races left of the season, Subaru finds himself getting rather caught up in it.

“I know why you want me to keep winning,” Yasu says slyly, nudging Subaru.

“I just like it when you’re happy,” Subaru says, feigning ignorance.

Yasu laughs at him. “My happiness is your happiness, right?”

Yasu understands that Subaru can’t dash off all over the world every couple of weeks - now he’s been to a couple of races and is showing more of an interest, he seems more relaxed about Subaru’s presence, it’s not the bone of contention it once was.

“The last race is in Brazil,” he says though, and this time it’s not just a hint, because it’s okay now, Subaru’s not just going to roll his eyes or apologise awkwardly. “Brazil’s a great place. Loads of Japanese people live there too.”

“You might’ve won the championship before then,” Subaru teases. He actually knows these things now.

“I can’t think about that!” Yasu exclaims, shaking his head vigorously. “I don’t like to!”

Subaru understands - every performer is superstitious, and Yasu is a performer just as much as he is. “Even if you have, I’ll come anyway,” he says loyally, but, because he can’t resist puncturing such sentimentality, adds, “Your parties are the best, there’s no denying that.”

In India, Yasu only comes third. He doesn’t say _”It’s because you weren’t there”_ , but Subaru knows maybe he’s thinking it anyway, even if he wouldn’t admit it even to himself.

Abu Dhabi is even worse. His gearbox fails on lap 40, when he’s leading the race, and Subaru watches on TV as he climbs over a wall of tyres and trudges back to the pits.

“I could’ve won the championship, if I’d won that race!” he tells Subaru passionately over the phone. So much for not thinking about it.

Subaru feels butterflies in his stomach every time he thinks about Brazil. He flies there on Thursday, uses Friday to try and get used to the time difference, and on Saturday watches qualifying from the comfort of his bed. He’s by no means an expert, but even he knows that pole position is good.

Yasu comes to him that evening, but they don’t mention the race, the season, the car, the team - when they do talk, Yasu asks about Subaru’s plans, his music.

“I feel bad,” he suddenly says. “I’m always pressuring you, I’m so wrapped up in my thing that I forget you’re busy too. I know the band’s taking off though. I heard you on the radio,” he says with a shy smile.

Subaru smiles back. It’s never seemed like Yasu was being unfair - Subaru has to admit that, in the time they’ve been together, Yasu has showed more interest in Subaru’s career than he has in Yasu’s. At least until recently. “That’s OK, during the off-season you can drive me to all my gigs in your flashy red car. Or better, I can drive to all my gigs in my own flashy red car.”

“Not sure about that I’m afraid,” Yasu giggles. “You’ll just have to put up with me being around all the time.”

Subaru thinks he can handle that. “I’ll find some ways to occupy your time,” he promises, and kisses Yasu’s mouth.

When Subaru wakes up in the morning, Yasu is gone and Subaru doesn’t know what to do. Does he wants Subaru around to distract him from the situation, or does he want to focus? For a short while Subaru forgets that he can’t act like a boyfriend, he can’t be seen to be there for Yasu as he’d like to. Maybe, he daydreams, maybe if Yasu wins the world championship... Maybe that might change things.

But maybe not. As an entertainer, Subaru can play with an image, but only an image. If it’s real... it’s best if he just keeps on pretending.

He finds that it’s starting to make him angry.

Yasu meets him at the track well before the race, so Subaru has to hang around trying to look cool and purposeful whilst also avoiding any Japanese media. At least Yasu’s mum and dad are there. Subaru isn’t sure if they know about him and Yasu or not - Yasu has never said that they do - but at least he’s met them before and they’re kind and friendly. They do nothing but talk about the race, though, and it doesn’t help Subaru’s nerves.

He paces the garage a bit, but he can see that engineer standing close to Yasu, talking to him purposefully, and it stings a little. Subaru knows that when Yasu steps into the car, Subaru won’t exist to him anymore - nobody will, but Mark will, he’s the only person Yasu will hear, the only person Yasu will have room for in his mind. Thinking that makes him feel more than a bit pathetic, but that’s how he feels. He’s seen other drivers’ wives and girlfriends and assorted entourage around the paddock, but... his situation is unique.

He suddenly feels a wave of impatience for the race to be over, whether Yasu wins or not. When he looks back to the start of the season, it feels like a different life. He could never have imagined he’d be here, feeling like this. He gazes at Yasu, serious-faced and absorbed in concentration; he could never have imagined...

He turns away and strides blindly out into the paddock, trying to ease the bubble of tension that’s swelling in his chest. He does his best to look unapproachable, hiding behind his sunglasses and stern expression - all the way out here in Brazil though, the further he gets from the Ferrari garage, where the Japanese press are buzzing around their potential champion, the fewer people know who he is. At times during the year, that’s bothered him, feeling put in the shade next to the international enormity of the Formula 1 machine. But right now it’s a relief to just be some guy who nobody sees.

He sits in the hospitality suite with a beer and watches the clock until it’s nearly time for the race to start. He heads back to the garage and tries to blend in with Yasu’s family again as they all hug Yasu and wish him luck. Subaru holds on as tight as he dares, and Yasu doesn’t let him go for what feels like a long time, but as soon as he’s gone it wasn’t long enough.

When Yasu walks away to his car looking back over his shoulder with a smile, Subaru actually feels his eyes sting a little, and immediately feels stupid. In less than two hours this will all be over, whatever happens.

“They’re saying there’s a rain shower about 20 minutes away,” says someone when the car has left the garage.

“Is that bad?” Subaru asks. Rain sounds like it should be bad, to him.

Yasu’s dad makes a non-committal gesture. “Not really - rain makes it interesting. Shota won in Japan when it rained.” He pauses before he adds, “But Wakely is good in the rain too. Very good.”

Jonny Wakely, the main man who Yasu’s fought with all season at the top of the championship. After Yasu retired from the race in Abu Dhabi, Wakely closed down his lead to only four points. Subaru is crap at maths, but someone explains to him that if Wakely wins the race, he wins the championship, and there’s nothing Yasu will be able to do.

Yasu has to win.

Wakely is second on the grid, and Yasu must get a good start, hold him off at the first corner, build a lead over the first lap.

As the cars wait on the grid Subaru’s heart hammers like it wants to jump out of his chest. He’s never felt like this before a concert, not even their first headline, their first sell-out. This is something out of his control.

The red lights go out, the race is underway - Subaru feels sick as the cars dart for the first corner. Yasu leads the race, but Wakely is running second, and as Yasu starts to pull away from the field, so does he. There’s distance between them, but it’s not much, and it’s not increasing. Before Subaru realises it, seven laps have already passed.

“Rain’s ten minutes away,” Subaru hears someone say. Everybody waits. The rain doesn’t come.

Yasu and Wakeley maintain their positions through the first set of pitstops. Still the rain doesn’t come. Maybe it won’t, maybe things will stay the way they are - a more boring race for the people watching, but a safe one for Yasu.

Subaru watches the laps, mesmerised. He hasn’t spoken a word since the race began. They’re halfway through, and the tightness in his chest has eased a little - Yasu’s doing fine, no mistakes, no pressure. It’s all going fine.

Twenty laps left, and then the rain starts. Alarm rises in Subaru as if this is a major disaster, though it’s not, he knows it’s not, Yasu can drive just as well in rain, and he still has the lead. The rain isn’t too heavy, but it doesn’t stop, and Yasu and Wakely pit at almost the same time for the same type of tyre.

“They’re using the same strategy,” someone says. It’s a straight battle between them. Subaru’s stomach flips again, he wants to escape, but he can’t. He can’t look away.

Wakely is closing the gap, has been since they pitted, and Subaru feels desperation rising. He digs his nails into the palms of his hands. The track is wet, it’s hard to pass, and Subaru prays that Yasu can just hold out.

He’s right behind Yasu for almost a lap, until finally, he lunges past. Subaru sees Yasu’s mother put her hands over her face, everyone shouting at the monitors, but Subaru just keeps watching, his lips pressed into a thin line. If Yasu can stick with him, there’s still a chance... Suddenly, as soon as Yasu has lost the advantage, Subaru feels more determined - now what he feared has happened, he doesn’t want to admit defeat! Yasu’s a fighter. He won’t give up!

Yasu gives chase doggedly, and the rain keeps falling, harder now, but with so few laps to go no-one wants another stop for better tyres. Yasu follows closely, but it’s harder than ever to pass, and the laps drain away quickly, until there’s almost nothing left. Yasu is hounding him, and it’s five corners from the very end when Wakely goes a little too wide, hits the wet and leaves Yasu the space he needs to get through.

Subaru can’t believe the noise around him, it’s more even than when Yasu won in Japan, and the race isn’t even over yet. It’s as if Japan have won the world cup, or like being at a farewell concert before the final encore. He can’t bring himself to move yet though, not until it’s over, not until they take the chequered flag. He counts the seconds it should take them to finish, as if that will help - they take the final corner with Yasu still leading, the straight is the only danger. Subaru holds his breath, but Wakely can’t recover the distance, and when Yasu takes the chequered flag, the whole garage ignites in celebration that dwarfs anything Subaru has ever seen before. They all charge out to parc ferme during the in-lap - Subaru can imagine Yasu crying in the cockpit of his car, and it makes him smile but his own eyes start to prick a little too.

There are dozens of people crowded into the space, waving Italian flags, waving Ferrari flags, and waving Japanese flags too, even though Subaru and Yasu’s family are the only Japanese people he can see. He sticks close to them, right up against the barrier, and his heart is thudding just like it did before the race as he sees the cars coming in. Yasu gets out and stands on his car, arms in the air, and he looks around at the roaring crowd. Subaru didn’t realise how popular Yasu was, in Brazil or in the sport in general - but how could Yasu _not_ be popular? Anyone would love him if they saw just a fraction of what Subaru sees. Everyone in the grandstand seems so glad to see Yasu win, it makes Subaru feel like he’s going to overflow with pride.

Wakely finished right behind him, and he reaches up to hug Yasu warmly. Then as soon as he lets go, Yasu races across the tarmac and throws himself into the arms of his father and mother. He still has his helmet on, but Subaru is sure he must be crying, and when he moves across, to Subaru, they look at each other through the open visor and Subaru feels tears overwhelm him. He hugs Yasu to him tightly across the barrier, and he knows that millions of people across the world can see him right now, but they’re not looking at him, they’re looking at the new world champion. He can’t speak, but Yasu wouldn’t hear him anyway.

Subaru doesn’t know how long he stays there, but eventually Yasu pulls away, taking off his helmet and saluting the crowd again before he heads into the building and, finally, onto the podium. Tears are still trickling down his cheeks, and it makes Subaru smile again. He’s overwhelmed with happiness, pure and sheer joy for Yasu, his man, the man he loves, and he knows that this is it, there’s nowhere he’d rather be and no-one else for him.

***

They wait for something to happen. Someone to say something. At the party Subaru never leaves Yasu’s side, and the longer they stay and the more they have to drink, the less they can stop touching and smiling at each other.

There’s cameras all over, but neither of them can bring themselves to care. Not when they can go back to Yasu’s room and his bed and not fall asleep till 8 o’clock in the morning.

In the afternoon Mark comes with all the newspapers. Yasu invites him in, and Subaru sees a moment of realisation in his face as Mark sees him in the room, but he greets him with a smile and Subaru smiles back in relief. Yasu delightedly spreads the papers out across the floor and the three of them read all the race reports that are written in languages they understand. Everyone praises Yasu and talks about the thrill of the race, how good it is to have such a close finish, how gracious Wakely was in defeat, and Yasu was in victory.

“I can’t read any more, it’s embarrassing!” says Yasu, but Subaru carries on. He sees himself in some of the photos, but no-one mentions him.

“Maybe Ferrari stopped them printing anything,” Yasu murmurs, resting his chin on Subaru’s shoulder. He obviously doesn’t care what his engineer thinks - or more likely, he wants him to know. They’re friends, right? No-one wants to hide a part of themselves from their friends. Yasu trusts him. That’s alright with Subaru.

“Would they do that?” Subaru says. He doesn’t know whether to feel relieved, or insulted that Ferrari would think it improper for one of their drivers to have a boyfriend.

“I don’t know. No-one’s talked to me about it,” Yasu says with a short laugh.

They look at each other.

“I’m going to head off,” says Mark, edging towards the door. Subaru feels a little bad for making him a third wheel. “I’ll see you...” he trails off as Yasu gets up and hugs him before he leaves.

Subaru watches them. “I want people to know,” he says, as soon as the door is closed.

Yasu’s eyes widen. “Are you sure?”

Subaru runs a hand through his hair. “Well,” he starts, “I don’t want to cover it up, if it comes to it.” He motions for Yasu to come to him, and Yasu kneels on the floor close by so Subaru can put his arms round him, rests his head on his shoulder. “Why would I not want people to know I’m dating the world champion of something?” he says with a grin.

Yasu giggles and looks modestly away. “I mean... I’m happy with that if you are,” he murmurs.

“I’m not saying let’s hold a press conference or something,” Subaru says. “But if anyone asks, I want them to know the truth. You know me. I’m crap at hiding my feelings.”

Yasu smiles. “Me too.” He hesitates. “It’s not something that’s happened before,” he ventures.

“A Japanese driver winning a world championship hasn’t happened before either,” Subaru points out.

Yasu kisses him. “I never thought this would happen,” he says. “Any of it.”

“Me neither,” admits Subaru with a grin. “But I like being a part of all this,” he says, gesturing at the newspapers spread around them. “I quite want to stay.”

“I don’t know what they’ll say at home,” Yasu says, more quietly. “But... I guess we’ll find out.”

Subaru grins. “Well, if they don’t like having a Formula 1 world champion there with his boyfriend, we can always move to Italy or Monaco.”

Yasu laughs. “And what will you do?”

“I don’t need to do anything,” Subaru shoots back. “Not with a world champion boyfriend.”

Yasu giggles. It seems easy from thousands of miles away. Maybe it will be. Maybe no-one will say a word. Maybe it just looks obvious to them, because they’re right in the centre of it all. But after yesterday, after the past 8 months, everything looks easy, everything looks conquerable, and they’re both ready to face whatever comes.

 

END


End file.
